Turning on the Light
by brokenbottleaurora
Summary: "Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." - Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban; - The dark times have passed, but Draco still harbors a secret that separates him from true happiness.


**MC4A Challenge Block:**

**Stacked with:** Romance Challenge; Fem Power Challenge; By Any Other Name; Not Commonwealth; Shadows of Consequence; Slytherin MC2; Gryffindor MC2; Yellow Ribbon; In a Flash; The Houses Competition

**Representations:** Fire & Ice; BC Use; Familial Tension; Pride; Keeping Secrets

**Bonus Challenges:** Second Verse (Ladylike- Argumentative; Not a Lamp); SMC2 (Y); GMC2 (Y); YR (N)

**Warnings:** None

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**The Houses Competition Information**

Term 04, Round 01 — Drabble

Hufflepuff, Head of House

Prompt: "Does your mother/father know what you've been up to?"

Word Count: 931

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AN: This is a post-war fic, and Draco may seem a little OOC when compared to his canon-era characterization. However, I like to think that, after everything he saw and went through during the war, Draco came away a little softer and a little braver. That's how I've chosen to portray him here.

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**Turning on the Light**

The morning sunlight slanted across the dark wooden floors, creeping its way toward the enormous bed in the center of the room. When it finally reached his face, Draco scrunched his eyes closed and rolled over, reaching to pull his partner closer. His hand met nothing but cold mattress.

_What the hell,_ Draco thought. _She's not the kind to just sneak away after—oh, but she _is_ the kind to haul off and explore._ _Merlin, don't let her have gone wandering in the Manor... Well, nothing I can do about that now_.

The duvet slipped down his chest as he sat up, stretching luxuriously. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Draco surveyed the room. _Huh, mostly still intact this time. _He did a quick clothing inventory to make sure she'd at least had the sense to get dressed before leaving his quarters. _Last night's trousers, my socks, her dress, one of her ridiculous shoes… Ugh, tell me she didn't Vanish my favorite green dress shirt again. I just replaced the last one—_

"Does your father know what you've been up to? Or, should I say, what we've been up to?" Ginny asked, derailing his train of thought. He wondered how long she'd stood watching him from the doorway, lazily leaning one shoulder against it. He really wondered how he'd missed the smell emanating from the cups of coffee she held.

_Solves the mystery of my missing shirt, though_, Draco mused. _And I may demand she never take it off. Looks loads better on her._

"Uh, I suppose not. It's not like I've shared this with anyone other than Mother," he answered.

Ginny padded across the room and joined him back in bed, handing him a mug. "Then it's a good thing I managed to avoid him on his way into the kitchen just now."

"You shouldn't have just gone wandering through the Manor," Draco muttered.

"I wasn't wandering," she argued. "I've been here more than enough to know perfectly well how to get to the kitchen. And the pool room. And the library. And the back garden. And the—"

"Yes, yes, I get it." Draco waved her off. "It just makes me nervous."

Ginny sighed and leaned back against the stack of pillows. "It wouldn't make you nervous if you'd just tell him about us. Twenty seconds of insane courage is all it would take."

"You know why I can't do that," Draco replied without malice. He dropped his head back, wincing when it thudded against the heavy headboard. "Your friends didn't take it all that well themselves."

"But they came around," Ginny pushed. "Mum and Dad did, too. They saw how happy you make me and, for that, decided that you were worth putting up with. And keeping a secret for. They know that we deserve to be happy."

Draco snorted. "That's because your friends actually _care_ about what makes you happy. My father and my friends only care about how I _look_, whether I'm with someone who "makes sense". So it's easier said than done."

"Then are they really your friends? Do they really care about you if that's all they're concerned with?" Ginny countered.

"You know how I feel about that." It was far from the first time she'd asked him that question, but Draco still didn't have a simple answer for her. The answer itself was easy enough in theory, but he didn't know that he could face the truth of it.

Sensing his discomfort, Ginny placed her empty mug on the nightstand and leaned her head against his shoulder. The topic was apparently closed—for now, at least. Draco knew that until their situation was resolved, the sword would continue to swing over their heads.

He called an elf to bring them another refill and this morning's _Daily Prophet._ When the new elf—_Bitsy? Bimsy? Bob?_—had popped away, the couple fell into their usual routine. Draco, society pages in hand, draped his free arm around Ginny, who was already deep into the International Quidditch box scores. They traded sections back and forth, enjoying the silence save for an occasional comment or short discussion.

When they finally finished, Ginny checked the time. "Drat, I've got to be at the Burrow in an hour. Mum wants to do family photos," she finished with an eye roll.

"That's nice," Draco said softly.

Noticing the wistful look on his face, Ginny said, "You could be there too, you know. I _want _you there. You'd just have to be a little brave."

Draco paused for a long moment. "I'll think on it," he said, giving her shoulders a small squeeze.

And for once, he meant it. He was tired of hiding in the shadows, always falling into line even if he disagreed. Ginny was right—he deserved more. _She_ deserved more. Maybe he would talk to his father today. Just maybe.

"All right, get going," he said, giving her a playful shove. "I can't have the love of my life looking like someone's boggart in her family photos."

"I'll show you scary," she muttered.

Draco snickered at her. "Love you."

"Love you too," Ginny said, leaning up to give him a lingering kiss.

Just before she slipped out of bed, she gave him a devious grin and pressed her icy feet against his nice warm legs. Draco suppressed a shriek and shot her an exasperated look. Her triumphant grin steeled his resolve. He deserved to wake up with Ginny and her freezing feet and her perfect smirks for the rest of their lives. Yes, he'd talk to Lucius soon. His happiness demanded it.


End file.
